The Youngest Child

beautiful blurred background casual family
 

There are quite a few vivid memories I have from childhood of reporting back a play-by-play of all things good, bad, and ugly done by my brothers that day. Whether I was crying about some menial trauma they inflicted or divulging all the rules they broke, I was a classic tattle-tale. Even worse, I was an extremely practiced, theatrical victim…and the baby of the family…and the only girl. Put all those together and you have a recipe for someone who well into adulthood can still find herself playing the victim more than she would like to admit. Any other youngest children have that problem? Babies of the family, where you at? I’m very curious how much my “youngest child complex” affects my interactions with others.

Birth order is a really fascinating subject, that I only have anecdotal evidence to offer theories on…but I’d love to hear other people’s ideas and stories. For example, all of my easiest relationships are with “the oldests” in their families. My husband is an oldest…my mom is an oldest…two of my best friends are “oldests”.  My friendships and relationships with other “babies of the family,” while no less rewarding and valuable, are always a bit more of a challenge to maintain.

Also, how will my children’s birth order influence my relationship with them? I’m already positive, no other child we make will ever experience the level of fully devoted time and attention V receives from us, ha.

Click below for more about what your birth order says about you:

Birth order and personality

Alfred Adler

Birth order and job success

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Youth

We wonder if our lives will neatly summarize into a series of likes and shares

All the filtered photos left behind to remind people we’re there

We pay stars on big screens to feel what we can’t

Dramatize the day to day and remove happenstance

We will bloom in our youth or wither in the pursuit

Sold out information for reputations and I am unaware

Of what to think and how to feel when It breaks beyond repair

I lean into the comfortable of not taking the chance

Romanticize the yesteryears and forget to learn the dance

I will wither in my youth or bloom in the pursuit